


Scar Tissue

by Feelsripper



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bathing, Character Development, Consent is Sexy, Emotional Porn, M/M, Profanity, discussions of scars, nothing kinky here this time, so much tenderness it actually hurts, staying the night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 23:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4325085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feelsripper/pseuds/Feelsripper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hands quietly trailing over maps of skin in the dark, recalling old memories and even deeper wounds. There would be no shame here.</p><p>  <i>There's nothing wrong with you.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Scar Tissue

"Keep going."

It'd been a long time since he'd felt this good, and under Bull's touch, he was feeling... _very_ good. 

"You like that?"

At the scrape of teeth he couldn't help but shudder, the messy barrage of kisses shredding at his self control. The kisses turned into something sharper, something that would leave a pleasant reminder for the next day. He savored the weight on top of him, blood humming with anticipation. "That's— _ah_ —nice, but I'd really like you to fuck me now."

Bull pulled away, eyes crinkling with fondness. "And just a moment ago you told me to keep going."

"Well I have to keep you on your toes somehow, don't I?"

Bull hummed in agreement, raking his eyes over the body before him like Tarax was... _desirable_.

Tarax wasn't shy by nature. Maker no, he'd passed shy years ago and made one sinful b-line to shameless. And yet...He adverted his gaze, throwing an arm over his face.

Of course, this only caused his companion to laugh. "Shit, are you gettin' shy on me, Tarax?" The sheer affection in the Qunari's voice caused him to flush.

"Me? Shy? Please."

"Come on, talk to me. I only see you get red like that that when we're doing something _really_ dirty."

"It's not that, it's just...embarrassing."

"I won't laugh." The familiar weight of Bull's hands fell on his hips, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into his pelvis. “Well, unless it's like the time you got caught on--”

With a huff Tarax gave Bull a light shove, earning a soft wheeze of laughter. He sat up, leaning back on his elbows, "Not anything like that, _ass_.” His smile quickly faded, nervously laughing as he raked his blond hair back. "It's just...Oh Creators, when I say it out loud it sounds silly."

"It's okay, Tarax. Take your time.”

He let out a deep sigh, "I know, big guy. I know." He reached down to lace his fingers with Bull's. The gesture was painfully intimate, but honestly? He didn't care. Bull always treated him with kindness, always kindness, never savage, never brutal. He was the only one who ever asked what he wanted. Tarax could let himself have this, even if he shouldn't.

"It's just..." Another nervous laugh punctuated his sentence, turning his face away in embarrassment.

Bull gently squeezed his hip, digging a nail into the scar tissue there.

Tarax sucked in a breath, trying to piece together his thoughts. "You look at me like you want to jump my bones."

"Well... _yeah_ , given our current situation?" The corner of his mouth curled with amusement.

"It's easy to overlook stuff when someone's got your dick, yeah, but it's like you actually _like_ what you see." There was more he could say, more he wanted to say, but the words died on his lips. _It's like you like me, instead of what I can do._

"Shit yeah I do, I mean..." His brow furrowed with the burden of realization. "You don't?"

"I'm not ashamed of how I look if that's what you mean." He couldn't help the accusatory edge in his voice. Tarax knew he wasn't a pretty picture, but he wasn't going to apologize for that.

"And you shouldn't. There's nothing wrong with you." A soft sigh escaped, free hand tracing the scar tissue that coiled around his torso. "I do like what I see." His eyes flicked down to his own arousal with a smirk. "A lot. I can do some convincing, if you like."

There was a moment of hesitation as their eyes met. "May I?"

Always asking if he could, if he may, always permission. Tarax slowly laid back down, gaze unwavering. "Yes." It was an admission, but one he gave freely. He squeezed Bull's hand, guiding his fingers to the gnarled flesh. "Yes."

He let out a sigh of relief as he was crowded back into the mattress. To his surprise Bull kept their fingers laced, allowing his remaining hand to wander the charred canvas beneath him. "Scars are nothing to be ashamed of."

At that, he couldn't help but laugh. Of course they weren't; when he looked at Bull with his missing eye and the pale white scars that lined his body, shame was the last thing he thought of. “I know, I like yours. But I already said--" He tried to lift his head from the mattress to look at him.

"Tarax." 

With a sigh he laid his head back down, biting his tongue. Bull was asking for patience. It was the least he could give him.

"Scars are nothing to be ashamed of." He said it again, slower this time, softer. Lips, sweet and gentle, traced the hollow of his throat and the bruises blooming along his collar bones. 

Tarax unraveled their fingers, wrapping both arms around Bull's neck for encouragement, bringing them closer together. Each kiss was light and fleeting against the burns that had ravaged his body. Seven years had passed, and yet the smell of burnt flesh plagued him. It followed him into his dreams and his waking moments, and sometimes, he swore he was still burning.

"You're beautiful." 

At that, Tarax couldn't help but laugh. He didn't need to be lied to. Of course, his laughter quickly dissolved into a soft groan, hips stuttering at the snap of teeth against his shoulder.

"You _are_." The words were more forceful, matching the tempo of his hands. They were eager to touch, the pads of his fingers mapping the sleek contour of his stomach and chest. Bull hummed with approval, tentatively cataloging each sigh and gasp his touch brought. 

Tarax let out a shaky breath, screwing his eyes shut. 

"You're strong, and _passionate_. You care.” Another pause, "Can I--"

"Yes." A rumble of laughter caught his attention, causing him to snap his eyes open. 

"You don't know what I'm going to do yet!” Bull drummed his fingers against his hip.“But you're still going to have to let go first."

"Fine." He let out a huff, and slid his arms from Bull's neck. "Horns?"

"You won't be able to reach them. Well, not in the way you usually like to."

"Oh?" He swallowed thickly. 

Bull's hand trailed lowered, taking hold of his thigh to open his leg to him. His thumb dug into the meat of Tarax's thigh, trailing over yet more scar tissue. Bull was no stranger to scars, much less Tarax's. The fact that he was willing to take his time, like he was something worth savoring...

It made his stomach twist with something dangerously close to affection.

Tarax let out a startled breath at the warm breath against his thigh. More featherlight kisses tickled against his skin, before it was replaced with tongue, slowly licking a stripe to his inner thigh.

_"Yes."_

First Bull bit the delicate flesh, soothing the broken skin with his tongue, before starting the process all over again a few centimeters lower. He could picture his thighs now, dotted with bruises from the Qunari's attention, all trailing higher and higher until...

Tarax bucked his hips in surprise, biting back a whine at the feeling of Bull's mouth on his cock. He could taste the word forming in his mouth, the one thing that could bring it all to a close.

“K...”

Bull lifted his head, thumbs trailing pensive circles into his thighs, careful, always so careful, of his boundaries.

“ _Keep going._ ” Tarax curled his fist, biting the knuckles as a form of restraint. He refused to make a sound.

The encouragement was all Bull needed to renew his fervor, this time trailing along the underside of his cock with the flat of his tongue. When he reached the tip, he gently tongued the slit, hand curling around the base. He hummed, making Tarax's toes curl. The worst part was that he was taking his time, doing nothing more than riling him up, _teasing_ him.

If he watched—the way Bull's brow furrowed, completely concentrated on the task at hand, the shape of his mouth-- he'd completely unravel. 

Bull pulled off with a wet pop, “You're wound up so tight.”

“So loosen me up.” His voice was so raw he hardly recognized it as his own.

It was always Tarax who sought Bull out. The slightest suggestion, the subtlest glance, and he had the other man's attention. No matter what, it was always on Tarax's terms—he decided when and where, how and why, yet Bull never questioned him. Always, 'I know what you need', not just what he wanted. He was always eager to please, always giving, always _tender_. 

It was for that reason, Tarax knew something had to change. Bull had more than earned his trust, given him so much. He didn't just want to take, he wanted to meet half way. “I want you to do what you want.” 

Raspy chuckle, disbelieving almost. “Oh I am. Trust me, Ol' Iron Bull is just fine.”

He sat up now, bringing his hands cup Bull's face. “I trust you. You've never hurt me unless I asked you to.” He couldn't help but trace the empty socket. Bull didn't frighten him—he wouldn't shy away from him now. “But most importantly, I want you to feel safe with me as I do with you. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make you comfortable—-”

Tarax couldn't hide his relief when Bull collided their lips together, all pretense gone. Those large hands found his hips, hoisting Tarax into his lap. Between the sudden movement and the rush of arousal his head spinning. Bull pulled back slightly, “I'm good. Really.” Yet there was no mistaking the sheer affection there—he was touched. 

Before Tarax could respond Bull kissed him again, almost feverishly with it's intensity. Their kisses were getting sloppy and frantic, teeth catching his lip—he needed more.

“More.” The word escaped almost as a near pant.

The words hardly left his mouth before Bull was on him again, hot and insistent. Hands traveled lowered, until Bull rutted them forward pulling Tarax flush against him. Tarax inhaled sharply, bucking up against the heat against him.

“Take what you need.” Bull hummed, hands grabbing greedily, squeezing the globes of his cheeks. Tarax couldn't help but relish the roughness of his hands as he spread him open. 

“We— _shit_ —need to move this along.” He hated the needy whine in his voice, but the friction felt so _good_. Better yet, Bull seemed eager to touch, like it never bothered him that his right side had been completely burned, or that even his ass had scar tissue or--

“You're thinking too much.” Bull broke their frantic kisses to bite the tip of Tarax's ear in an attempt to rein his distracted partner in.

Tarax shuddered at the hot breath on his ear, crooning his face up to Bull with a grin. “Then you have my _full_ permission to fix that.” 

Bull shook his head with a smile, hands drawing to his waist to still their movements. Of course, that was the exact _opposite_ of what he wanted, and he let Bull know of his disapproval with a glare. He made an attempt to grind their hips together again, seeking out contact again, but Bull's hold was stronger. Naturally, this only seemed to _amuse_ the Qunari. His laughter was low and easy, like he had all the time in the world to take Tarax apart. “Bossy, aren't we?”

“Like you mind.” Tarax wriggled in his grasp, thighs protesting from their hold on Bull's enormous hips.

“You've got me there.” He drummed his fingers against his hipbones, contemplating. “Do you...?”

“ _Please_.” A small smile creased his features, planting a quiet kiss on Bull's collarbone. “You won't hurt me. I promise.”

“Last time was a little...hard on you.” He returned the smile with fondness, hands rising to trail up Tarax's sides.

The innuendo made him snort, causing him to grin. “It was still good, don't worry.” He idly traced the scars on Bull's chest with fondness. “...But I know you'll worry anyways.” He forced himself to look away, feeling his cheeks flush. “Thank you for that.”

“Of course.” He traced Tarax's ribs, smiling.

“Now quit stalling. I've been prepping myself—I can handle it. Trust me, okay? I promise to tell you if it gets to be too much.” Tarax took his hands in his, slowly placing them back on his ass.

“I know you will.” He gingerly laid Tarax onto his back, gently gripping his knee for support as he pushed himself up. “I'll be back.”

“Do what you need to.” At least he didn't have to talk to Bull about safety.

The bed dipped beside him, catching Tarax's attention. He rolled over onto his stomach, propping himself up on an elbow to watch Bull's every move. “What position do you want?”

That earned him a raspy cackle, while he rolled on the lambskin condom, pinching the tip with a satisfied grunt. “Hmm. On your back, if you like.”

He didn't need to be told twice. Tarax rolled back over on his back, “Jeez, you aren't even making me work for it. Do you want me to prep myself, or do you want to do the honors? I do like it when you watch.” He grinned up at Bull cheekily, “But then again...I also like your thick fingers working me open too.”

“And I like watching you beg for my cock.” In one show of strength, he lifted Tarax's hips. “But I also like it when you writhe around my fingers.”

Tarax felt himself flush under such scrutiny. Prep-work wasn't his favorite—mainly because the fact the salve was always cold, and the fact someone was _intensely_ staring at his ass. Bull may have been an excellent partner, but even he couldn't erase the initial discomfort.

“It's going to be cold, so try and relax, okay? Tell me if I'm going too fast.”

“You got it, big guy.” Right now he needed a distraction, and thus pulled on Bull's horns, steering him down to his level. “Hey. You can multitask, right?”

Bull rose an eyebrow—past experience had answered that question in a _variety_ of ways.

“Right, stupid question.” He laughed quietly to himself, nervously chewing his lip. He should just tell Bull what he wanted, even if it did sound...needy. He cut his eyes away a moment, before shyly looking up. “Just...kiss me?”

“Not suffering from stubble-burn yet?” The laughter came out as a deep rumble, but he leaned down anyways to fulfill Tarax's request.

“Pfft, _please_. I'll take stubble-burn over rug burn any day” He sighed into the kiss, surprisingly content. He allowed him to slip away again, watching with morbid fascination as Bull coated his fingers.

He inhaled sharply, tensing at the initial intrusion. 

“Relax.” His voice was calm, soothing. Slowly he gripped Tarax's cock, giving a few languid strokes, before focusing elsewhere.

“It's—hah—not my fault you have _enormous_ hands. Have some sympathy for us normal people.” He wriggled in his grasp, trying to arch back up into his hand. Still, Bull was right, as much as he hated to admit it. He shut his eyes again, inhaling deeply, forcing himself to calm down and loosen up.

After a few moments, Bull added a second finger, causing his breath to hitch. It never got easier, practice be damned, but he knew the payoff would be worth it. Bull seemed to be waiting for him to adjust, waiting for some signal to continue.

He gave a quick little nod, biting down on his lip again, as he felt the stretch of being opened up. The pace was slow and careful, always mindful of any pain. Of course, there would always be a little pain, but nothing Tarax wasn't accustomed to. In truth, it wasn't all together...unpleasant. He was trembling now. “Another.”

As the third finger slipped in, a small breathy moan escaped. It always pleased Bull to pull such sounds from him. His fingers dug into the sheets, balling his fists into the fabric. Normally Tarax was...quiet, but for Bull, he made an exception.

It was difficult, at first, allowing himself to be heard. _Be quick, be silent, be generous._ That was the motto in the brothel. Be quick—the customer couldn't afford an hour. Be quiet—unless asked. Be generous—make the customer happy, make them pay more for you, make them come again.

But here, he could be whatever he wanted to be. Most importantly he could be...himself. Under Bull's touch, he was clay, bending and bowing to the hands that held him. Bull was generous with him. He took his time, savored the experience, made it matter, made it count. He didn't care if Tarax made noise, wasn't scolded, wasn't...

There was a lump in his throat. 

He was always _kind_.

Tarax knew what he needed.

“Alright, alright enough stretching, I'm ready.” He let out a shuttering breath.

Bull stilled his movements, “Are you sure?”

“Creators _yes_ , just _please_ get on with it.” He began to squirm uncomfortably. The pressure was mounting, and needed to be touched.

“So _mouthy_.”

He nearly cried out at the loss of contact, feeling strangely empty. Bull smiled down at him, mattress dipping under his weight. Despite Bull's giant frame and strength, Tarax felt safe folded beneath him. He was more than familiar with the routine, wrapping his legs around the other man's hips to draw him closer.

They'd go slowly—they _had_ to this time, but he found that he didn't mind; better to go slow and do it right than fast and fuck something up. He tried not to look down at Bull's movements, focused on the slow slide of familiar heat.

“So tight.”

He found speaking difficult, choking back a quiet groan. “Y-Yeah.”

“Tell me what you need.”

Tarax wrapped his arms around him again, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders. “More.”

Inch by inch, Bull calmly pressed forward, filling him up. It was a quiet build, slowly pushing forward until they were slotted together. Both quietly laid there a moment, chests heaving at the exertion.

“You okay?” Bull gently smoothed a damp lock of hair away from Tarax's forehead.

Nothing worth having was without a little pain. “I'm...” He tried to catch his breath, “...a _little uncomfortable_ , but that's to be expected.” He began to squirm uncomfortably, “I'm fine, I promise, but _move_? _Please_?”

“That, I can do.” That was all the encouragement Bull seemed to need before delivering the first shallow thrust.

All the air left his lungs, body pins and needles, anticipating the next thrust. This, he could do. Fucking and fighting, he could do both, he was good at both.

 _But you can be more, if you wanted to_.

“A little faster, and a _lot_ harder.” He raked his nails down Bull's back, insistent. He wanted to be fucked so hard he couldn't think of anything else, lost in the physical contact of skin on skin. He knew what he wanted, and what's more, be could actually _have_ it.

Without a word, Bull snapped his hips forcefully, forcing a pleased groan from Tarax. “Better?”

“ _Yes_.” He hooked his legs around Bull's hips again, angling him for a deeper thrust. He was feeling pleasantly lightheaded, mind in a fog at the gentle nips on his shoulders and ears and the roll of hips.

It was a good, brutal pace, but at _just_ the right angle...

“ _Fuck_!” He gritted his teeth, arching his back into the sensation.

Bull seemed pleased with himself, feeling the curl of a smile against his neck, but said nothing. Instead, he only grazed the sensitive area again, teasing. 

“ _More_.” He was scrambling for purchase, anything to make him hit that spot again.

“And you said I wouldn't make you work for it.” He pulled back slightly, amused.

“Fuck, just...” He ground his hips against him, needy, desperate, aching to be touched. “Fen-Harel's teeth, just _touch_ me. _Please_.”

Bull sucked in a sharp breath, restraint fraying, as he crashed their mouths together, reaching between them. Finally, _finally_ , Bull touched him, hand stroking his cock, fucking him in earnest.

Their kisses were frantic with too much teeth, but Tarax was slowly coming undone, unraveling beneath him. Bull was all around him, pushing down against him, hands everywhere, slotted together, just a little more...

“That's it, come on. Let me see you.” The words were hardly above a whisper—Bull sounded absolutely _wrecked_ , all because of him.

Tarax squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't get him any closer, teetering on that edge—if he could just get a little more, if he could _just_ —Maker, he just wanted to come. 

Sensing his urgency, Bull squeezed the tip of his cock, nail catching on the slit. The delicious bite of pain was all he needed. He arched his back, clawing--

 _A brighter burst, a fuller feeling_.

For a few, fleeting moments, his mind was blissfully clear. The air had been knocked out of him, body electric, a live-wire, buzzing, slowly coming down from an impossible high.

And then finally, he exhaled. 

With a deep shuddering breath, he loosened his grip on Bull's hips, lips throbbing and kiss swollen. He was going to feel this tomorrow, for sure. Before he could savor his victory, there was one more thing he needed to do. 

He squeezed, clenching around Bull, causing the other man to let out a hiss in his native tongue. That, was a victory in itself, but so was watching him. His brow furrowed, mouth slack and soundless, surprisingly intimate as he sagged against him.

They laid there a moment struggling for breath, weathering the aftershocks. 

Finally, Tarax nudged him. “Bull.”

“Yeah?”

Fuck, his voice still sounded so raw. “Could you, y'know, move? It's kind of uncomfortable.”

“Oh. Right.” He sat up, movements still sluggish as he gently pulled out.

“I need to get going.” Tarax knew where everything was, already reaching for the cloth folded neatly on the night stand. Bull had been expecting his company, apparently.

“You could stay, if you wanted.”

That gave him pause, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully. “...Is that what you want?” Bull was still on top of him, but he avoided his eye contact at all cost. Instead he focused on his hand on the nightstand, nervously toying with a lose thread. He'd...stayed before. The idea of quietly being pulled against his chest, hands trailing over scars in the dark...

...was something he shouldn't entertain.

As if sensing his discomfort, Bull removed himself, allowing Tarax a clear shot of the door.

Tarax immediately missed the warmth of his skin.

“I enjoy your company. But only if you wish to be here.” Bull stretched, attempting to keep his tone light. He didn't want to spook Tarax, didn't want to pressure him, wanted to give him the choice.

_Rush in, rush out, never linger, onto the next client, onto the waiting to be picked, waiting to be desired._

He swallowed thickly, mechanically wiping away fluid. He didn't watch as Bull strode across the room, participating in his own cleaning ritual.

“Yes.” He tried again, voice failing him. “I'd...like that.”

The tension eased out of Bull's shoulders. It made Tarax smile. 

“Good. You sleep better here, anyways.”

“Probably because I'm not listening to the snoring of the entire barracks. I mean, I still have to deal with you, but that's equivalent to only _half_ of the barracks.”

Bull chuckled, shaking his head. “Hey, you have a drooling problem. It's like sleeping next to a mabari. Might wanna get that checked out.”

It was on the tip of his tongue, a joke, _'and yet you asked me to stay'_ , but the words never left his lips. They were too intimate, too... _something_.

“You have extra pillows, you'll be fine.” He shrugged, waving him off, folding the cloth into neat squares. “But seriously, if I'm staying I need to bathe otherwise I'm going to pass the fuck out and be disgusting.”

“In the corner.” He motioned to the giant metal basin, already filled with water.

Tarax cut his eyes to him, narrowing his gaze. “You sly dog.”

Bull shrugged, but there was no mistaking the smirk on his face. “I just know what you like.”

“I guess I can't argue with that, given our previous activities.” He sat up from the bed, wincing. Already he was stiff. As he quietly padded over to the metal basin, he couldn't help but wonder. Did Bull treat all of his 'house guests' this well? 

_Serving girl with red hair, adjusting the strap on her dress with a smile, glance flirtatious and coy as she disappeared up the stairs. No one needed to know where she was going—The Iron Bull liked redheads._

He forced the mental image from his mind, sinking down into the chilly water. The cold was unpleasant, but it wasn't unfamiliar. Skyhold, with it's walls of stone, was seldom warm. 

Yes, The Iron Bull was a good lover and treated all those who passed through his door with respect and consideration. It wasn't Bull's fault that some of those “guests” happened to frequent his door more often. Despite knowing where he stood in the grand scheme of things, he still found himself asking, “Join me?” 

Bull looked up, expression betraying nothing.

Tarax felt himself clam up, shakily adding, “It'll be faster.” And after a moment of consideration, “It's also colder than the Maker's loins in here.”

“Well when you put it that way, how can I say no?” Unfortunately for Tarax, Bull was much less careful about stepping in. 

“Hey, hey, you're going to spill water everywhere!” The water filled to the brim, dangerously lapping at the edge.

“It'll be fine.”

“Do I need to remind you of what happened _last_ time?”

“Oh. Right.” A pause, “...Well we aren't trying to have sex this time so it shouldn't be _that_ bad.”

“Maker, that was uncomfortable.” He sighed, sinking further into the water. It felt strange to be so...unhurried. To linger, to simply _slow down_. 

_You aren't running, not anymore. You could be happy here._

“Hey, it wasn't that bad! Still got a few nice sounds out of you.” Bull's shoulders sagged, possibly relaxing for the first time that night.

“Oh you mean anything that wasn't, 'I just hit my head on the side' or 'this is hard on my knees?'” He snorted, playfully flicking water at him.

“Right. Sorry about that.

Tarax laughed throwing his head back, “Nah, don't be. Like you said, it wasn't _all_ bad. Gotta try everything once, right?”

Bull joined him in his mirth, edges softening at the sound. “Right.”

“I have noticed you've been in favor of having me on my back lately. If your ankle has been acting up, I can do some of the heavy lifting next time.” He slid over the side, fruitlessly searching for the soap.

Bull reached across past him effortlessly, handing him the soap. “No, nothing like that.” Laughter easy, “Thanks for asking."

“I'm surprised you even _have_ soap.” He mumbled under his breath as he took the soap from him, idly washing his hands.

“I'm not a complete savage. Most days.”

Tarax snorted, rolling his eyes. “Right.” He cupped his hands, throwing water against his face, shuddering at the biting cold. “You still didn't answer my question.”

“Didn't realize it was a question.” Bull let out a sigh, closing his good eye, leaning back. “I like seeing your expressions. No pretenses, just raw, unabashed passion. You don't hide anything or hold back.”

“I...didn't realize I was like that.” Tarax idly rubbing his arms with the soap. Bull really _did_ know him, and he wasn't sure when he let that happen.

“People usually don't. Everyone has their secrets, but they give them away piece by piece. They don't know it's their stance, or their expression when no one's looking. You do a pretty good job at keeping your crap together, but it's  
good to see you cut loose every once in awhile.”

“Looks like that's becoming a bit more frequent.” He gave a dry chuckle, trying to focus on anything but Bull's face.

“Tarax.” 

There it was again, concern, voice gentle. He only took that tone of voice in private, only when it was just the two of them.

“Yeah, Big guy?” Finally he looked up at him, unafraid.

“Are you okay?” He looked pensive, like he wanted to reach out, wanted to touch, but...was unsure if he should.

“Yeah. I am.” And honestly? He truly was. He nudged Bull's calf gently with his foot with a small smile. “Freezing my ass off though.”

“Come here.” Bull opened his arm, exposing the crook of his arm to him.

The invitation warmed him, and he gingerly moved to the other side of the tub. He sunk down against Bull, immediately warming.

“Better?” Bull gently nuzzled his neck, scrape of stubble comforting.

“Much.” He looked up, gently tracing the scar on Bull's lip with his thumb. There was something he'd been meaning to ask, but had been putting it off. Anyone who'd seen Tarax in any sort of undress had seen the burns, whether he'd tried to hide them or not. Yet there had been one person who never looked twice. “You've never asked me about the burns.”

Hesitation. “No, I haven't.”

“...Have you ever wanted to?”

“Don't need to. The way you carry yourself is enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> Some alternate titles were: the sauciest of salsas, that's a spicy panini, and scrub a dub dub there's a Tarax in the tub. Alas, I chose a semi-serious one. 
> 
> I don't usually write sex scenes (as you can see, haha), but I'll admit this was a GREAT way to show character development. Going in I definitely had some goals in mind, particularly with showing active and enthusiastic consent, how communication is A+, and goodness, _laughing_ with your partner was hella good too. I also realize this isn't a very ~kinky~ piece, but variety, right? Sometimes you want vanilla icecream, and sometimes you want rocky road. But I digress.
> 
> Also, for those who are curious (i.e. mostly me, wHOOPS) Tarax actually isn't an Inquisitor nor from the Lavellan clan in my canon (ahh yes, headcanons ahoy), whoops! There's definitely a reason I have Tarax yo-yoing between Dalish phrases and Andrastian phrases as well, due to a mixed background. I'm more than welcome to answer any questions in the comments, or in my Dragon Age tumblr, which will be posted below.
> 
> I'll also admit that I'm a tad nervous about Bull's characterization (I adore him, truly -cries-), and tried to draw from multiple sources within the game but...¯\\_(ツ)_/¯. We shall see how that panned our for me.
> 
> As mentioned, I'm planning on crossposting this to my Dragon Age goodies account found here: https:http://tales-from-the-campfire.tumblr.com/  
> I should probably work on my love affair with commas and italics...


End file.
